


Can’t Help Falling in Love With You

by lucernis



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (but only for a Little Bit i promise), (i mean. it's the musical they're putting on. but yeah References works fkdsfjksk), (not Exactly but it's where the inspiration came from sO-), (on occasion), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - You've Got Mail Fusion, Arguing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Heart-to-Heart, Hurt/Comfort, In the Heights References, Love Confessions, M/M, Nonbinary Deceit | Janus Sanders, Online Friendship, Pining, Purple Prose, chat fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26170315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucernis/pseuds/lucernis
Summary: Roman hates Logan. He’s arrogant, uptight, and absolutely insufferable.Logan feels the same way. In his eyes, Roman is unrealistic, flighty, and never takes anything seriously.Rolovescares deeply for Nox. He’s brilliant, a joy to talk to, andmakes Roman’s heart flutternever fails to brighten his day.Nox feels the same way—that is to say, hecares deeplyfor Ro. In his eyes, Ro is full of light and passion, far more clever than he lets on to most, andcauses him to blush at every little complimentmakes him smile even after the worst of days.And, curiously enough, these two relationships are not entirely unrelated.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 44
Kudos: 83





	1. Only Fools Rush In

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for my partner’s birthday, so here’s to a Very Happy Birthday for the wonderful, brilliant, utterly _dazzling_ ren <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which relationships blossom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~don’t worry this time all the chapters are written in advance and this will be Fully Published by sept. 2nd i can make that a Promise okay~~
> 
> warnings: minimal swearing and light arguments

_Everyone had bad days,_ Logan reasoned. _Everyone messed up._

There was no reason for him to be reacting this way. None at all.

Logan sighed, shoving his quiz to the side as he let his head fall to the desk in its place. He didn’t even want to _think_ about that quiz for as long as reasonably possible. Eventually, he’d have to go over it and see what he’d missed, but for now? There was no reason he had to be subjected to staring at the dark blue ‘82%’ scrawled at the top of it.

Honestly, he shouldn’t be upset by an _eighty-two percent._ By any measure, it wasn’t a bad grade at all, especially not considering that when it was added to the gradebook, it wouldn’t even come close to bringing his overall grade down from an A.

And yet, Logan still found himself moments away from banging his head against the desk in frustration at his own failings. He’d _never_ gotten any grade below a B. Not even _close,_ and this was a B _minus._ A B- in _English,_ no less. It may not have been his favorite subject, but English was an _easy_ class—it shouldn’t have been the _first class_ he’d ever gotten below a B in.

Logan sighed again, though this time it was muffled by the desk he still had his head pressed against. This was fine. It was fine. He’d reread _Macbeth_ to ensure he wouldn’t make any more careless mistakes, and he’d rewatch the production Mrs. Weisz had posted for good measure. As long as he didn’t completely bomb his essay next class—which he _wouldn’t,_ of course; his analysis was always as close to perfect as was humanly possible—his overall grade would not suffer, and it would be as though this quiz had never existed. 

Still, Logan refused to look at the blue mark at the top of the paper. It wouldn’t do him any good to obsess over it when he _knew_ that grades alone didn’t determine his intelligence. Him having a bad day and making a few careless mistakes didn’t make him any less smart, and it didn’t make him a bad student.

It _didn’t._

With a sigh, he glared at the quiz as though _it_ was the thing trying to argue the point and not an annoyingly persistent voice in the back of his own mind. 

…Maybe if he stacked three folders, one spiral notebook, and several pencils on top of it, the quiz would stop plaguing his thoughts.

(Which it didn’t, for the record, but at least now it was out of sight. Perhaps soon enough, it could be out of mind as well.)

Logan pulled his copy of _Macbeth_ out of his backpack with another sigh, setting it on the desk before tapping the screen of his phone, checking for notifications. Nothing yet, and it was 3:36. Logan frowned. Ro normally would have texted him by this point—he got to the theater at around 3:15, and at some point between then and 3:30, he always, _always_ stepped away from his friends for a brief moment just to say hello. It was sweet, it was so very Ro, and it was something Logan could say unashamedly that he looked forward to each afternoon.

So after a bad day? Those few texts from Ro were like a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel, and Logan felt he could hardly be blamed for pouting when they hadn’t yet arrived, especially not when Ro was never more than one or two minutes late.

Sighing, Logan opened the book and clicked on his computer, doing his very best to convince himself that he’d be able to concentrate on his work until Ro texted.

Logan had just resigned himself to re-annotating the passage he was going to write an analysis on in class the next day when his phone buzzed, startling him out of his reverie. Scrambling to put anything he could grab between the pages of the book to hold his place, he shoved it to the side in favor of picking up his phone.

_Ro._

_Took him long enough,_ Logan thought with a fond roll of his eyes. He unlocked his phone and clicked the notification with Ro’s message.

_flamroyalant: nox!!_

_noctilucere: Ro!_

_flamroyalant: sorry it took so long, our director had to lecture us about getting ready for tech week and whatnot_

_flamroyalant: (speaking of, have you thought about my suggestion to join tech This Year at least? it’s ur last chance before you’re in college and have to focus on all that Important College Stuff and i just think,,, it would be Neat,,,, to share an interest with u ;-;)_

_flamroyalant: (i also think u would enjoy it, and that’s always a plus alksdfjslk)_

_flamroyalant: anyway though!! im here now!!! and! i’m so so happy you were free to say hi :D_

_noctilucere: Of course I was. Your messages at the end of the day are some of the best things about it. :)_

_(And, by the way, I have indeed thought about it. I just have to make sure there aren’t any clubs I want to join this fall that would cause any conflicts with the rehearsal schedule. :) )_

_flamroyalant: !!!!!!_

_flamroyalant: (to clarify, i am !!!!!! at both of those things :D)_

_flamroyalant: what have i done to deserve such a lovely friend ;-;_

_noctilucere: You deserve much, much more than you seem to think you do, Ro._

_flamroyalant: ;-;_

_flamroyalant: ily ;-;_

_noctilucere: !!! I love you too!_

_flamroyalant: i have to go p soon today, but before i do, i have a real quick question for u_

_noctilucere: What is it?_

_flamroyalant: okay so_

_flamroyalant: i know we live in the same timezone and all_

_flamroyalant: and i don’t mean to be nosy or weird_

_flamroyalant: but do u mind me asking where you live?_

Logan frowned at the screen, immediately suspicious. Before he could get too caught up in a spiral of increasingly worrying thoughts though, Roman sent another message.

_flamroyalant: i swear i’m not trying to stalk u or smth, i just want to know how long i’d have to drive to be able to see your pretty face in person ;)_

Though that message did relieve some of his concerns—and at the same time cause his heart rate to increase and his face to heat up—Logan still wanted to be sure it was safe to share something as personal as where he lived.

_noctilucere: Forgive me for being skeptical, but if you truly only want to know for the reason stated above, would you mind telling me first?_

_flamroyalant: oh! yea, sure_

_flamroyalant: that’s completely understandable_

_flamroyalant: i live in maryland_

_flamroyalant: which is in the us of a_

_flamroyalant: tho ofc u already knew that, clever as you are :)_

_Fuck,_ Logan thought, his heart now racing at what felt like the speed of light (no matter that scientifically, that would be an utterly ludicrous occurrence). Regrettably, the beating of his heart had nothing to do with Roman’s compliment this time, though he wished desperately it was that simple. 

_He_ lived in Maryland, so what if Roman lived nearby? It might not necessarily be _bad_ if he did, but… what if Roman didn’t want to be his friend anymore after meeting him in person? 

He was pulled out of his thoughts briefly by the quiet buzz of his phone, and he glanced at the message Roman had just sent.

_flamroyalant: your turn now, right?_

Logan stared at the message, placing a hand over his heart as though that would calm it. _Fuck,_ how was he supposed to answer _that?_

What if he just… said he lived somewhere else? It had to be somewhere far enough from Maryland that Roman would be dissuaded from driving to see him, of course, but _where_ would that be? Could he just say he lived across the ocean? There would be no threat of Roman considering driving _at all_ if he said _that._

He quickly scratched the idea though, as he’d have to somehow explain why he’d said he lived in a completely different time zone for so long. It simply wouldn’t make sense.

Still, the idea of a completely different country _was_ a tempting one.

Logan’s phone buzzed again. 

_flamroyalant: nox?_

Slightly panicked, Logan made a split-second decision, heart still pounding at an uncomfortable rate.

_noctilucere: My apologies, I was distracted for a moment._

_Regrettably, I’m not nearby at all. I live in Ontario, Canada, to be precise._

_flamroyalant: aw :(( that sucks_

_flamroyalant: but… do u speak french then?_

Thanking whatever god existed that he’d decided to take French over Spanish in high school and didn’t have to lie to his friend, Logan replied, _Not quite fluently, but I do speak enough to hold a decent conversation._

_flamroyalant: oh, be still my beating heart_

_flamroyalant: aksdfjslk if i ever hear u speak in french i think i would literally combust_

_flamroyalant: before u ask yes i do mean literally you’ll never see me again if u speak in french sorry nox :/_

_noctilucere: :( That would be a disappointment of the highest caliber. I’d never get to talk to you again, and we can’t have that, can we?_

_flamroyalant: fskdljksk_

_flamroyalant: nox u can’t just say those things without warning_

_flamroyalant: i Will combust now and that is a threat :(_

_noctilucere: Noooo don’t combust ahaha you’re so sexy. :(_

_noctilucere: …Did I do that right?_

_flamroyalant: oh my gOD_

_flamroyalant: never say that again_

_flamroyalant: ,,,but yes Technically (emphasis on the Technically) that was very nearly right_

_flamroyalant: no matter how much ur nerd brain protests, there Should Not be a period at the end of that_

_flamroyalant: it looks too aggressive_

_flamroyalant: and!! no capitalization At All_

_flamroyalant: oh yeah also you’re should be ur_

_flamroyalant: and That is how u meme nox_

_flamroyalant: ,,,,,,,,,,_

_flamroyalant: i shouldn’t be teaching you this should i-_

_noctilucere: :)_

_flamroyalant: NOX_

_flamroyalant: DO NOT_

_flamroyalant: i will find u_

_flamroyalant: and i’ll steal ur fuckin kneecaps_

_flamroyalant: don’t try me_

_noctilucere: noooo don’t steal my fuckin kneecaps ahaha ur so sexy :(_

_flamroyalant: SDKFJSALDK_

_flamroyalant: STOP THAT RIGHT NOW_

_noctilucere: No :)_

_flamroyalant: you’re lucky i love u so much :(_

Letting out an involuntary laugh, Logan covered his mouth with his hand to hide the wide smile on his face. 

_noctilucere: Indeed I am. :)_

Frowning at the message, Logan quickly added a correction to make it clearer.

_noctilucere: That is, I am lucky both because you love me and, of course, because you’re my friend. :)_

There was a brief lull in the conversation as Logan waited for Roman to respond, so he scribbled a few points down on a sticky note and stuck it on the page he’d been reading earlier.

_flamroyalant: aaaah i have to go now :(_

_flamroyalant: rehearsal and all_

_flamroyalant: i’ll text u when im done?_

_noctilucere: I’ll be here whenever you’re ready. :)_

_flamroyalant: !!! love u nox_

_noctilucere: And I you. <3_

_flamroyalant: <3_

Logan smothered a rather childish giggle as Roman’s last message appeared on his screen, though he was unable to stop himself from smiling fondly at it. Once his giddiness at seeing the heart had mostly subsided, he set his phone to the side, determined to finish _all_ of his homework by the time Roman had finished rehearsal so he could give his friend his full attention when they inevitably talked late into the night.

* * *

“…Red is a color that no one wants to see in a scene that had seemed so plain before; it creates a disturbance in what had previously been unscathed, it illustrates that the other characters present now understand exactly who Lady Macbeth is, and it is juxtaposed with their prior interpretation of her in the same way that the color itself stands out against the white of her dress. Posner and Teller, in their choices of color and costumes, were able to reveal explicitly that Lady Macbeth’s need to be queen has soiled her once pure innocence.” Roman concluded the reading of his essay with a glittering smile, taking a moment afterward to seriously consider taking a bow.

He was saved from having to make that decision by Mrs. Weisz though, who clapped three times in appreciation before standing up. “And _that_ is exactly what I’m looking for in your final scene analyses next week.” She grinned proudly at Roman before gesturing for him to sit down. “Brilliant work.”

As Roman went to sit down, he noticed Logan raise his hand out of the corner of his eye. Stifling a sigh, Roman vowed that he wouldn’t let anything the other student might say ruin the rush of happiness that receiving such high praise from Mrs. Weisz had granted him. 

“Yes, Logan?”

“Respectfully,” he began slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully, “I have to disagree with the conclusions Roman drew from the scene he chose. I don’t think the directors meant for anyone to read quite that much into the color of Lady Macbeth’s _nightgown._ ”

“Ah, but that’s the beauty of art, isn’t it? You can see anything in it that your heart desires.”

Logan frowned. “Isn’t that… not the point? If you can see any form of symbolism in any scene, couldn’t you simply make something up?”

“Well, of course you _could,_ but I think it would be fairly obvious if you didn’t put enough thought into your assertion.”

“Okay,” Logan said with a nod. “So… if I posited that the abundance of shots that show Lady Macbeth without including her face are used misogynistically to both dehumanize and make the audience feel less sympathy for her, you wouldn’t pass it off as utter nonsense?”

“If you were able to back it up with a sufficient explanation, then yes, I would accept that.”

Logan looked at Mrs. Weisz incredulously. “That was complete nonsense.”

“I didn’t think it was,” she replied, her tone slightly condescending, though not unkind.

Shaking his head, Logan seemed to realize that there was no way he was going to win this argument. “My point was that praising an essay full of nothing but flowery language and a whole argument based on the color of a dress seems… silly, for lack of a better word.”

Fed up with Logan’s slander of his beautiful essay, Roman raised his own hand. “If I may interrupt—” He trailed off, watching Mrs. Weisz expectantly for an answer.

She gave a tired sigh, though she did still gesture for him to continue. “Try to keep this short, at least?”

“I’ll do my best,” Roman said, shooting her a grateful smile. “Now, Xie: my essay, for the record, was _not_ silly. It was a well-thought-out analysis of something that—while maybe not the most consequential of topics—was fascinating to me, nonetheless. If it matters to even one person, it’s not _silly._ ”

“Does the color of Lady Macbeth’s dress _really_ matter to you?”

“Yes, it _does_ in fact matter to me.”

Logan frowned. “But there are so many other topics of more consequence to the play as a whole that you could have chosen from. I realize that analyzing a performance as opposed to an actual text doesn’t leave you with as many options in that regard, but you still could have written about—”

Roman _may_ have tuned out just a bit after that, but it wasn’t as though you could blame him. Watching Logan talk about… well, anything, really, was utterly _magical._ The way his face lit up, the sparkle of intensity in his eyes—he seemed to _glow_ with passion and beauty.

So yes, Roman may have been staring as he finished his rant. He blinked, lifting his head from where he’d let it rest on his hand. “You bring up several good points,” Roman said, deftly avoiding mention of the fact that if pressed, he wouldn’t be able to name _any_ of them, “but I think I still win this one. Any aspect of the show can be something of consequence if you write about it in the right manner.”

“And you think you did?”

“ _I_ think I could write _circles_ around you, Logan Xie.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Indeed I do,” Roman replied, a self-confident smirk on his face.

Logan hummed in contemplation before finally saying, “If you’re so confident, then why don’t we—”

Logan was cut off by the bell just then, saving the rest of the class from having to listen to any more of their arguing.

“If you haven’t finished reading and annotating _Macbeth_ yet, make sure you do by next class!” Mrs. Weisz called, trying in vain to be heard by the entire class before they left and failing miserably, much to her chagrin.

Roman shot her a sympathetic smile, hoping she took it as an apology for arguing with Logan for too long yet again as well.

And speak of the devil, there he was, walking towards his desk. Roman pretended not to notice, quickly zipping up his backpack and making a beeline for the door. 

Logan was just a bit to fast for him though, taking hold of his arm and pulling him to the side just before he reached the doorway. So close, yet so far. 

“Didn’t you want to hear what I was going to propose?” Logan asked, eyebrow raised.

“You probably wanted to challenge me to something you thought you’d be able to win just to give yourself an ego trip, believing at the same time that _I_ wouldn’t want to refuse it out of pride,” Roman deadpanned, “so not really, no.”

“That’s not a very fair assessment.”

“You sure?”

“I wouldn’t challenge you to something just for an ‘ego trip,’” Logan sniffed. 

Roman noted that he’d mostly avoided the question, but chose not to mention it. “So what were you going to propose, then?”

“A writing competition. I wanted to prove to you that you aren’t as good at it as you seem to think you are.”

Roman laughed. “I don’t just _think_ I’m good, Xie, I _know_ I’m good.”

“Then you should have any problem with the challenge then, now should you?”

Roman hummed, carefully considering whether or not Logan was trying to get him to say something he’d regret. “I suppose not,” he decided finally.

“Give me your number, then. I’ll come up with something by the end of the day and text you the details.” Logan held out his phone, open to the contacts list.

“Fine,” Roman agreed, taking it and typing in his first name and phone number. No last name, he’d decided, because Logan seemed like the kind of person to want to save a contact with both a first and last name, and Roman was nothing if not petty. If he wanted one so badly, he’d have to either ask for it or type it in himself.

Not missing a beat, Logan appeared to do just that, typing in one final thing before saving the contact. He typed one more thing before saying, “There. I just texted you, and I’ll let you know what I’ve decided on by the end of the day.”

“Sure thing, Xie,” Roman said, sending him a mocking salute before turning on his heel and walking out of the room, deciding he most likely shouldn’t think about whatever it was that he’d just gotten himself into.

* * *

It was only after the bell signaling the end of the school day rang that Roman was able to check the texts on his phone again. True to his word, Logan _had_ texted him at some point, presumably with the details of this proposed contest of his.

Walking in the direction of the theater as he began to read the text, Roman dodged around the groups of students scattered throughout the hallway with practiced ease. At this point in his life, he could easily walk between classes without looking up from his phone even once.

Honestly, he had Nox to blame for that. The few minutes between classes were some of the only times he had to catch up with him during the day, and Roman savored every second of their interactions. Needless to say though, he’d be just fine reading Logan’s worryingly long text as he walked. 

_Xie: Our ‘competition’ will be based around a written prompt, to be agreed upon by both of us to ensure it’s as fair as possible. I’d recommend something that would require a similar skill set to writing an essay, as that’s where the argument that resulted in this ‘competition’ originated. To make the judging of our pieces as unbiased as possible, we should put in place as many specific guidelines as we can, as I don’t think we should get anyone else involved. I trust that you’ll be fair in your judging, as I can assure you I will be in mine. The prompt will have to be decided upon when you and I both have a bit of free time, as well as a word count (I’d say no more than 1,500 words, but 2,000 words is the absolute max) and deadline. If you could respond to this telling me when you’re free, that would be greatly appreciated._

As though it were an afterthought, Logan had sent another message almost an hour after the first one, reading: _Personally, I should be free every day this week after 7 PM for at least an hour or so, and I don’t believe I have anything going on this weekend._

Roman had to read over both messages one more time as he shouldered open the door of the theater just to make sure he’d caught everything before typing out the fastest reply he possibly could: _my schedule’s pretty much the same, though i think my weekends are a tad more booked up. i’ll get back to u on that in a bit_

Immediately after sending it, Roman winced. Considering he was texting someone who he planned to compete against in a _writing_ competition, he probably should have at least made an _attempt_ to not fall into most of his texting habits. He should have _at least_ typed out ‘you’ instead of just using the letter, considering he fluctuated between them anyway. 

Shaking his head, Roman decided it was not the time to obsess over what Logan thought of him. He glanced at the time on his phone before turning to his friends for a brief hello and then, as quickly as he’d arrived, Roman made himself scarce. Ducking into his usual corner near the back of the theater, he pulled out his phone again and pulled up his and Nox’s direct message chat. Roman couldn’t help but smile upon seeing the familiar username, his face bright as he typed his usual greeting.

_flamroyalant: nox!!_

He looked up from his phone casually as he waited for a response, watching for Nox’s status to light up and indicate that he was online out of the corner of his eye while scrutinizing the new faces arriving in the theater. He’d nearly forgotten that prospective techies were coming to watch rehearsal today, and the thought caused him to absently glance back at his phone, wondering if Nox had made his own decision about whether or not to join crew yet this year. Roman hoped he would. It would be nice, imagining that Nox was also in a theater miles and miles away, that they were somehow tied together through a shared hobby.

Perhaps it was just Roman who enjoyed the poetic beauty of it, though. Nox might not appreciate it _nearly_ as much as he did.

Roman glanced down at his phone again, growing slightly impatient. Nox didn’t usually take more than a minute or so to respond to Roman’s after school messages to him, and it had almost been _two._ Roman found his right foot tapping rapidly with nervous energy, hoping the director wasn’t going to gather them for an impromptu announcement or something like she had yesterday. 

Thankfully, Roman didn’t have to ponder the possibility for too long as Nox responded not three seconds later in his usual fashion.

 _noctilucere:_ _Ro!_

_flamroyalant: ik i’m a bit early today, but i wanted to avoid having to make you wait like i did yesterday aldkfjslkf_

_flamroyalant: anyway!! i’ve had A Day today and i Cannot Wait to have longer to talk to you tonight_

_flamroyalant: since we have some potential techies coming to watch rehearsal today, i’ll have less time rn than usual :(_

_flamroyalant: so yea i’m very much looking forward to tonight :D_

_flamroyalant: also!!! i missed u today :(( im sorry i didn’t have enough time to talk between classes :( the lack of You truly made today feel like a tragedy :(_

_noctilucere: Ah! Coincidentally, our school has a similar opportunity for prospective techs and I am going to be watching a rehearsal today myself._

_I look forward to hearing about this Day of yours, and you shouldn’t worry about not having time to talk between classes. I was rather preoccupied myself, honestly._

_noctilucere: I should probably go soon too, even if I would prefer to talk with you instead. :(_

_flamroyalant: :(_

_flamroyalant: but!! does this mean you’re thinking about doing tech?_

_noctilucere: It does indeed. :) I thought you’d be excited to hear that if all goes well today, I plan to apply to become a stage manager or soundboard op._

_flamroyalant: while i ofc have every confidence in u, you should know that Both of those jobs very very rarely go to a baby tech_

_noctilucere: Baby tech?_

_flamroyalant: newbie, new tech, yk. baby tech._

_noctilucere: Ah. Should I expect to be referred to as a baby tech?_

_flamroyalant: gjsldfk honestly? yea_

_flamroyalant: and i don’t want to discourage you from trying btw!! i just wanted to warn u jic_

_noctilucere: I think you underestimate my skills when it comes to applying to things I barely qualify for. :)_

_flamroyalant: ,,,,it sounds like there’s a Story there_

_flamroyalant: hoooow concerned should i be for the current tech’s positions?_

_noctilucere: Well, you certainly should be_ un _concerned._

_flamroyalant: oh my god nox_

_flamroyalant: ur gonna steal all their jobs_

_noctilucere: Not_ all _of them. :)_

_flamroyalant: SDLFSJKK_

Roman looked up then, hearing Ms. Fiedler’s voice calling everyone there to take a seat. He sighed, gazing mournfully at his and Nox’s soon-to-be-abandoned conversation. 

_flamroyalant: i pity ur school’s techs, truly_

_flamroyalant: bUT i have to go now :( and i can’t lament the plight of some kids i don’t know when i have to lament my Own plight in having to say goodbye to you :(_

_noctilucere: A tragedy to rival the likes of Romeo and Juliet, I see._

_flamroyalant: i knew you’d get it :)_

_flamroyalant: anyway!!!! ily nox and i’ll be counting the minutes until i can talk to you again_

_noctilucere: As will I, naturally. :) I love you too, Ro._

A giddy grin on his face at that final message, Roman slipped his phone into his pocket and took a seat on the end of the row his friends had claimed, shooting Janus a brilliant smile when they gave him a questioning look before turning to face Ms. Fiedler.

“As most of you know, we have a small group of potential techs joining us today to get a feel for our rehearsal process, so I want you all to be on your best behavior. We don’t want to scare them off,” she said, the smile she gave them a knowing one. Dealing with theatre kids wasn’t for the faint of heart, and if these techs couldn’t handle this rehearsal? There was no way in hell they’d survive the late nights, high stress levels, and inevitable drama of hell w— ahem, of _tech_ week. This trial run was just as much to pick out those who wouldn’t be able to handle all of _that_ as it was to allow those who were interested a peek at what rehearsals were really like.

“We’re going to continue blocking the first act today, and with any luck, we’ll be done with that by the end of this rehearsal and get ourselves a day ahead of schedule, which, let me tell you, we _need_. If I had to guess, I’d assume we’ll take even more time than I allotted for when it comes to choreography,” Ms. Fiedler continued. “And! If you aren’t on stage, I expect you to be running lines with each other because as far as I know, none of you are off-book yet and I’d like you to be by the end of the week.”

One sideways glance at Janus told him that they were very much off-book, but neither mentioned it, knowing Ms. Fiedler would find them something to do in the meantime and leave Roman all alone. No one wanted that, _especially_ because that would likely leave him stuck running lines with _Pryce_ of all people. He shuddered at the thought. God, that would be nothing short of absolutely, positively unbearable.

“Okay! Let’s start with scene…” Ms. Fiedler flipped through her script with a frown, “eight, right? That’s where we left off yesterday?”

There was a chorus of agreement, and Ms. Fiedler nodded gratefully before glancing back down at her script. “Scene eight, then. Abuela Claudia, I need you and the ensemble up here first.”

Roman reclined in his seat, grateful that he’d have a short break before the next scene he was in, both so he’d be able to talk to Janus and so he’d be able to review some of his lines with them. He turned to his left, opening his mouth to say something, but the look Janus gave them caused it to close again. Frowning, he asked instead, “What is it?”

“Not to alarm you, but I wanted to let you know that, ah, someone you have a… distinct lack of appreciation for is here.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “You mean Logan? You can say his name, you know.”

“Right,” Janus agreed skeptically, likely remembering the time Roman had stormed out of their house and ignored them for nearly a week after they’d mentioned Logan by name, saying that he’d gotten a perfect score on his calculus test. “Anyway, I figured I should warn you that I _also_ overheard him mentioning to Virgil during calc that he’s really, truly, genuinely considering joining the crew for this show. He’s not just here for—” 

“Wait wait wait— start over. You’re really telling me that _Logan Xie_ is considering joining crew? We _are_ talking about the same guy, right?”

“You tell me,” Janus replied, subtly flicking his eyes behind him and to the left. “He’s right there, isn’t he?”

_“Holy shit.”_

“Believe me now?”

“I wish I didn’t,” Roman sighed, sinking down further into his seat. “What’s the point of joining crew in his last year here, anyway? Can’t he just let me have this _one thing?_ ”

Roman chose to completely ignore the irony in the fact that that he’d suggested for Nox to do the exact same thing, and Janus graciously chose to completely avoid mentioning it.

“I doubt he’s here _just_ to spite you.”

Roman sent them a look. “Then why do _you_ think he’s here?”

Janus didn’t seem to have an answer for that, shaking their head and flipping their script open. “You’re not off-book yet, are you?”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Roman pointed out rather petulantly.

“And _you’re not off-book yet, are you?_ ”

Realizing he wasn’t going to get an answer out of them, Roman sighed again. “No,” he replied with a huff.

“I didn’t think so,” Janus said, seemingly satisfied that Roman had dropped the subject. “Now, what scene do you know up to, again?”

“I’ve got all of act one down, so…” Roman trailed off, searching through his wrinkled script for the tab he’d stuck at the beginning of Act II, wondering if it had fallen out in his backpack somewhere. “Ah! Yeah, act two scene one— no, that’s just the song, I’ve got that down. So… act two, scene four, actually.” 

Janus rolled their eyes, flipping to the scene with much more ease than Roman had. “Do you need another couple of tabs for your script?”

“…Maybe,” Roman said, looking sheepish. “In my defense,” he insisted as Janus easily pulled a pack of tabs out of a side pocket of their backpack, “you’re inhumanly organized. I simply can’t be expected to compete with _that._ ”

Janus opened their mouth to reply with something that would likely be absolutely devastating but before they could, they were interrupted by a voice from behind them. “Compared to you, Roman, I believe everyone appears to be inhumanly organized.”

Roman huffed in response, turning a glare on Logan. “Well, _that_ was uncalled for.”

Logan hummed in response, saying nothing else.

“Do you have a reason for interrupting us?” Janus asked, their exasperated words cutting between Roman and Logan’s impromptu staring contest.

“I was merely going around, talking to the actors to see if they had any insight into what being on the crew was like, as well as what their experiences in this show have been.”

“Hm, well if you’re so desperate to know, being on crew is simply _awful_ and under _no circumstance_ should you ever join it ever,” Roman replied quickly, a bright smile on his face. “Now, if that was all, I’d appreciate if you—”

“Oh, I’ve already decided I’m going to be joining the crew, nothing you say is going to change _that._ And besides, I certainly know better than to trust you, so at this point, I’m more curious about what roles you have and getting to know the rest of the cast. If I had to guess,” Logan said, turning to Roman, “you have the lead, don’t you?”

Roman blinked, startled. Had that been some weird form of compliment, or was he missing something? He glanced at Janus for confirmation and they shrugged in response to his unasked question, seemingly as confused as he was. “I’m Benny,” Janus replied slowly, as though they were waiting for Logan to do something violently unexpected.

“And I’m Nina,” Roman finally added, turning away from the bewildered look on Janus’s face. “Or, well, Nino as he’s going to be in our version.”

Logan frowned. “How did you manage to get Ms. Fiedler on board with that?”

At this, Janus’s face transformed into a smug smile. “It was pretty easy, actually. She barely needed any convincing at all.”

They weren’t lying. Roman remembered with perfect clarity her knowing look as Janus asked the day after their audition if she could be convinced to cast Nina as male, claiming that they’d feel uncomfortable kissing a girl and topping off the statement with an overdramatic pout. Ms. Fiedler hadn’t questioned their conviction that would be cast as Benny—no one of any notable talent had auditioned for the role aside from Janus, and even after just one day of auditions, it was clear they were a shoo-in for the role. Instead, she’d given both them and Roman that smile of hers and said that if she were to do that, the actor would have to have an _incredible_ range. Roman had taken that as a challenge, of course, and had succeeded in winning her over with his own audition the next day by singing _Breathe._

“I can’t imagine that’s true,” Logan said, his frown growing.

“Well, it is,” Roman replied, voice snappy with annoyance. “We have a special place in her heart,” he finished, evening out his tone and adding a winning smile to go with it.

“Is that really all there is to that story?”

“Of course not,” Janus scoffed, “but it’s not as though we’re going to tell it to you, are we?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t,” Logan agreed, face impassive. Roman wondered what was going through that clever mind of his. He couldn’t have been _happy_ with Janus’s response, surely, nor could he have expected it, so why hadn’t his expression betrayed even an ounce of surprise? It was quite a feat, and Roman couldn’t help but be just a little bit impressed.

“If that’s all,” Janus pressed, “I—and I’m sure Roman too—would appreciate it if you’d leave us alone so we can get back to running lines.”

Roman shook himself out of his thoughts with a few blinks before nodding in agreement.

“Ah, right. I’ll leave you to that.” With that, Logan turned and walked back to his seat in the audience.

“That was weird,” Janus muttered, watching him leave. 

Roman hummed in vague agreement, staring absently at Logan.

Janus cleared their throat, looking pointedly at Roman. He shook his head. “Lines. Right. Sorry,” he said, laughing off his distracted state.

For the entire rest of rehearsal though, Roman couldn’t seem to properly focus. It wasn’t bad enough that they weren’t able to finish blocking the first act—no, they’d managed to finish that a fair bit before rehearsal had ended—but it was still rather unusual. The one thing Roman had _always_ been able to focus on was theatre, but for whatever reason, he found his mind constantly drifting back to his conversation with Logan.

By the end of rehearsal though, he’d shaken it off, assuring himself that no amount of peculiar conversations would ever invade his thoughts like that again—not even if they were with the one and only Logan Xie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact! logan’s username is a fun mishmash of ‘noctiluca’ (which is latin and roughly translates to ‘that which shines at night’ and is generally used to refer to the moon and sometimes a lantern) and ‘lucere’ (which is Also latin and translates to ‘to shine’) because when i checked on tumblr just noctiluca wasn’t available sO i made it slightly different. as for why i picked it? ren and i Initially bonded over latin, logan likes space, and i am a Sap :’)
> 
> another fun fact! their nicknames do indeed come from their usernames: flam _ro_ yalant (yes roman chose it himself no he did not think it through and yes that is a combination of the words flamboyant and royal thank u for asking) and nox means night in latin, so it could easily be derived from a word with the meaning ‘that which shines at night’ and ~~i am~~ logan is enough of a nerd to know that (or do the research to figure it out)
> 
> aaaaand one final fun fact! that essay excerpt roman reads is part of something i Actually Wrote for english this past year and why yes, my teacher did genuinely praise it and why yes, i did get an a on it, and why yes, i am poking fun at my own essay. *takes a bow* i’m just brilliant like that <3
> 
> okay that’s all ty <3
> 
> [tumblr post](https://ratherstarryeyed.tumblr.com/post/627824352484851712/cant-help-falling-in-love-with-you)


	2. Like a River Flows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which relationships wither.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: more arguing (but this time it gets Real Bad), logan is kinda ~~read: really~~ mean (but he doesn’t Mean It)

Logan got home soon after rehearsal had finished, avoiding both of his parents’ separate corners of the house and bringing his backpack up to his room before taking up his usual spot at his desk. Sighing, he turned on his phone to double-check that he hadn’t received any important notifications only to instantly see a text from Roman. Checking the time stamp, he frowned. It had been sent before rehearsal had started, so Logan _should_ have seen it earlier, but he reasoned that he’d probably been too distracted by his conversation with Ro to have cared about a text from Roman, of all people.

Sitting down at his desk and setting his backpack down beside him, Logan opened the text, reading what Roman had written.

_Roman de Vera: my schedule’s pretty much the same, though i think my weekends are a tad more booked up. i’ll get back to u on that in a bit_

Logan nodded to himself. That was good; it meant there wouldn’t be too much of a hassle when it came to judging each of their pieces in person. Typing with one hand as he absently pulled his homework out of his backpack with the other, Logan replied, _Would you be opposed to calling me in a few minutes so we can work out the details of the contest itself?_

Almost immediately, his phone buzzed with a response. 

_Roman de Vera: not at all_

_Roman de Vera: i’ll shoot you a text as soon as i’m ready_

_Logan Xie: I’d appreciate that._

With that, Logan flipped open the lid of his computer and pulled up the window he had open with a few potentially promising prompts he’d found during his brief search for them during study hall. 

Not a minute later, Roman texted him again, saying he was ready to call. Logan picked up his phone and clicked on Roman’s contact so he could do just that. 

“Xie?” said the voice on the other side of the line.

“That would be me,” he responded, setting his phone on the desk and plugging a set of earbuds into it so he wouldn’t disturb anyone that happened to walk by his room while he was still calling Roman.

“I’m so glad,” Roman said, and Logan could practically hear the eye roll in his voice. 

Shaking his head in exasperation, Logan began, “I wanted to talk about what prompt we should use for this little writing contest of ours. As I mentioned in my text, I was thinking—”

“I _read_ your text, specs.”

“I’m so glad,” Logan echoed, rolling his eyes just as he imagined Roman had. “If that’s the case, then what are your thoughts on what I said?”

Roman hummed in thought. “Too specific. I think we should have free reign to write whatever is most comfortable for us.”

Logan couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped him. “What, scared you’ll lose?” 

“Far from it, actually. I think I’d just rather prove I can best you in _any_ genre. I’ve already got essay writing down, according to Mrs. Weisz—”

“Now, I don’t think you know _that_ for sure.”

“I’m sorry, which one of us did she ask to read their essay out loud?” Roman paused, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment. “Oh right, that was me, wasn’t it?”

Logan frowned. Regrettably, Roman had a point. “If you insist—”

“I do.”

“—then we can broaden the genre to ‘whatever the author is most comfortable with,’” Logan said, doing his best to mimic Roman’s distinctly pompous voice. 

“I don’t talk like that!”

“If you recognized it as a mimicry of your voice, then it couldn’t have been _that_ far off, could it?”

Roman gave a huff of annoyance, but he remained completely silent otherwise.

“Now, did you have an idea for a broader prompt, or were you going to leave that to me?”

Scoffing, Roman replied, “There’s no way I’m going to trust _you_ to pick a prompt for this on your own. But yes,” he continued, his theatrical tone fading just enough that Logan felt he could take him seriously again, “I did have an idea.”

“Well?” Logan pressed when Roman seemed intent on remaining silent. “What is it?”

“I was thinking we should just… pick a word and let our imaginations take us where they may.”

Now it was Logan’s turn to scoff. Whatever word Roman was thinking of, Logan had no doubt that he very much wouldn’t approve of it. “What do you have in mind?”

“Oh! Uh, tell me if you think it’s too cheesy or if you think… I don’t know, that you wouldn’t be able to write anything you’d be proud of with it, but I was thinking that generally, you can do an awful lot with the word ‘love.’”

“Love,” Logan repeated, completely deadpan.

“Um. Yes?”

Logan frowned, remembering Roman’s ever so subtly implied challenge. “Fine,” he decided. “Fine, we’ll write something about love.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Logan replied wearily, resting his forehead in his hand. “We’ll make the deadline a week from today.”

Roman made a sound that Logan could only describe as the positively endearing _‘!!!!!’_ Ro often used to express excitement.

“Don’t make me regret giving in,” he added in vain, already knowing that if Roman had any say in the matter, he’d never hear the end of it. 

“I won’t,” he said solemnly. “I _promise._ ”

* * *

Logan stood outside the library near the center of town, searching for an open bench he could use while he waited for Roman to arrive. Upon finding one, he made his way over to it and sat down, carefully straightening the pile of papers in his lap. He didn’t want to lose a single page of his writing, nor did he want to drop one of the rubrics he’d printed out for him and Roman. That wouldn’t do at all.

He sat there, waiting on the stone bench outside the library for approximately seven minutes (it was _actually_ seven minutes and sixteen seconds—he’d timed it—but he wasn’t going to get hung up on the technicalities of this) before Roman came rushing up the stairs, sounding slightly winded as a flurry of apologies fell from his lips. Logan waved them all away, interrupting him just before he got to the fifth ‘sorry,’ “It’s no problem. We should head inside now though, my parents asked for me to be home in—” he glanced quickly at his watch, “—forty-seven minutes, and I don’t want to worry them if I’m late.”

“Right, of course,” Roman agreed, falling into step beside Logan as he pushed open the library’s doors and slipped inside, walking purposefully toward his usual table in a back corner.

“Now,” Logan said in a low voice once they were seated, “let me see what you brought.”

Roman pulled a few sheets of folded paper from a coat pocket and placed them on the table. “Here you are. It’s not my best work, I don’t think, but I have no doubt it’s good enough to beat you,” he said with a broad smile, though if Logan wasn’t mistaken, he detected a slight an undercurrent of insecurity in his words.

Logan slid his small stack of papers across the table towards Roman wordlessly, taking the rubrics from the bottom of the stack and placing them to the side. “Let me know when you’re done reading, and may the best author win.”

With that, he dragged the papers Roman had placed down towards himself and began to read.

* * *

_Love._

_He’d heard it was a rose, soft and satiny, beautiful and alluring, delicate and enchanting._

_He’d heard it was fire, burning with passion and brilliance and light._

_He’d heard it was a sunrise—the beginning of something new, filling the world with anticipation and hope._

_He’d heard it was grand gestures, warm smiles, the lightest of touches, the sweetest of kisses._

_He’d heard so, so many things about love, and maybe he believed them. He didn’t know yet._

_But he_ did _know that love couldn’t possibly be as wonderful as he’d heard it was supposed to be. Roses all had their thorns, fire destroyed everything it touched, and sunrises signaled the end of the previous day just as much as the beginning of the next. And if love was all that, what was he_ supposed _to think of it?_

_Maybe he was supposed to believe in it anyway, believe in the surface-level explanations he’d always been given._

_At the same time though, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to. Pretending love was full of nothing but joy and beauty would be doing it a disservice when it was clearly so much deeper than that._

_Besides, doing_ that _would mean setting himself up for heartbreak, wouldn’t it? Trying to fool himself into thinking that love wouldn’t_ hurt _was naïve at best, and he prided himself on not being naïve._

It would probably be best to never fall in love, _he thought to himself. That was the only thing guaranteed to protect him from the thorns, the burns, the endings._

_So he didn’t fall in love._

_It wasn’t a particularly difficult feat, not when he made it a point to keep everyone at a completely unreachable distance. No one could fall in love with him—nor he with them—if they couldn’t truly see each other. His plan had been meticulously executed and was flawlessly,_ infallibly _perfect._

_He’d thought so, at least. Even the best-laid plans end up failing though, and fail it did._

_Because—_

_There was a boy._

_There was a boy whose hair smelled like roses, whose bright eyes allowed all to see the way his heart and soul were alight with a golden, fiery passion, whose laugh had sounded like a sunrise with a smile as bright as the promise of a new day._

_There was a boy, and he had fallen for him within moments of their first meeting. Despite everything he’d done thus far to prevent it from happening, he’d_ fallen in love.

 _His chest tightened at the thought like it was as tragic a death sentence because to him, it_ was. _If he’d been any bit braver, any less of a coward, maybe he’d have done something about his feelings. But as it was, they could only fester, slowly growing in intensity until they began to completely consume him._

 _It was only after his heart felt as though it were being physically stabbed with every breath that he at last conceded that this love wasn’t the sort to fade into nothing after a week or so. This wasn’t the sort of love that he could ignore to prevent himself from getting hurt, because ignoring it hurt_ even more.

 _Perhaps it was fortunate, then, that the boy he’d fallen in love with him began to talk to him, to laugh with him, to smile_ at _him and cause his heart to stop for the briefest of moments, to make the love he felt spread into every crevasse of his being. And perhaps it was fortunate that the boy felt the same way, and it was_ undoubtedly _fortunate that the boy had been the one to confess first. He didn’t think he’d have been able to make it through the words ‘I love you’ without something truly terrible happening to his poor heart._

 _He was so very lucky that his feelings had been reciprocated, he’d realized after kissing the boy for the first, second, fifth, hundredth,_ thousandth _time. If they hadn’t been, he didn’t want to think about how broken he would have felt, didn’t want to think about how the empty feeling in his chest that had existed before the boy would only continue to grow, didn’t want to think about how dark his world would have become if he hadn’t realized how beautiful love was._

 _That’s why, when the boy—and though the boy wasn’t exactly a boy anymore, he still thought of him with the same love he’d felt all those years ago, so the name had stuck in his mind—said he no longer felt the same way, he didn’t take it as badly as he once would have. It still hurt—god, of_ course _it hurt—but he wasn’t irreparably ruined by it._

_The boy left the apartment they shared the next day, and he was left alone again, left to ponder whether it had been worth it after all._

It hadn’t, _was his first thought, because the cynic in him always seemed to win out in the end._

But what if it had been? _came another voice, and it sounded like the boy._

_They’d been happy together, after all, and what more could he have wanted from such a relationship? It had been his first and the boy’s second—it was practically destined to fail and to expect anything from it but a brief sort of happiness was a fool’s errand._

_And yet together, they’d defied the odds. They’d had_ years _of far more than a brief sort of happiness, and he found he didn’t regret a single one of them. The boy had been something other than just his first love—something beyond anything he could put into words._

_Together, they’d grown up in every sense of the phrase. They’d learned about life and love and happiness—taught it to each other more than anything else. At the same time, they’d grown taller—he more than the boy, eventually towering a good four inches above him—grown out of their clothes, out of the boxes their parents had once put them in. It soon became clear that they were more than anyone else ever seemed to have expected._

_Together, they’d felt like two halves of the same whole, incomplete without the other by their side, but— no, that wasn’t right. They were perfectly whole without the other, but being together made them brighter, lovelier, happier. Together was better than alone, they’d found, and that was what they’d chosen to be._

_Together, they’d made memories. They’d traveled—sometimes thousands of miles, sometimes no more than a few steps—and they’d done that together too, finding new places to associate the other’s laugh with, or their smile, or the way their eyes sparkled, or the kisses they’d shared. He knew that he would be able to go to very few places indeed without being reminded of the boy, but he also knew that someday, he’d be able to smile about that. In the end, he found he didn’t mind this predicament so much after all._

_Together, life hadn’t been perfect. Neither of them had expected it to be,_ couldn’t _have expected it to be. Failing to acknowledge the moments of discontent would be doing the relationship a disservice, portraying it as something it was not. It had_ felt _perfect at times, sure, and up until the day the boy left, he’d thought the best way to describe it was perfectly imperfect. Now though, he knew it had just been imperfect, and imperfect was all they had needed it to be._

_And together, they’d had more than love. They’d had something that could only really be described as being entirely beyond words, something that he could only think to call ineffable. It had been… lovely._

Losing _that feeling though— it may have left him to drown in melancholy, but he also couldn’t help but be grateful he’d been able to experience it, even once in his life. His heart still felt broken, and he was still indescribably,_ impossibly _sad, but no matter what pain he’d be subjected to in the coming days, weeks, months,_ years _… he realized he wouldn’t have traded that relationship for anything in the world._

And maybe, _he realized as the final piece of his heart shattered,_ the pain of falling in love had been worth it after all.

* * *

Logan looked up at Roman, throat tight with emotion, wondering if he’d finished reading too. Roman stared back intently, watching for a reaction. “Did you… did you like it?” he asked, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

Logan cocked his head, genuinely confused. Why wouldn’t he have liked it? “I— that was beautiful,” he replied softly, startled to hear his own voice catch. He cleared his throat. “I’d say that I liked it very much indeed.”

Roman frowned, his expression still guarded. “Are you…” he paused, considering his words. “You’re crying, Logan.”

Blinking, he realized that Roman was right. Logan reached a hand up to his cheek to check that he really was feeling tears running down it. “So I am,” he agreed finally, taking his glasses off to wipe his eyes dry.

“Is it because—”

“Yes, I do believe it was your writing that made me cry. I should congratulate you—that’s no easy feat.”

At last, Roman’s face relaxed into the sparkling grin Logan knew so well. “Does that mean I automatically win?”

Logan huffed, putting his glasses back on only to glare at Roman not a second later. “The judging of our contest is not based on whose piece made the other cry more.”

“It was worth a shot,” Roman said with a shrug, pulling the rubric Logan had printed out for him closer. “We’re still using these, right?”

Logan nodded absently in response, already making notes on his own rubric.

“Done,” Roman announced a few minutes later turning his paper over and, looking up at Logan with a grin. 

“Took you long enough,” he replied, but his tone was far more teasing than it had ever been with Roman before. Logan himself even blinked at the unexpectedness of it, frowning slightly before he forced his voice to return to its usual detached nature. “You go first.”

Obligingly, Roman flipped the paper back over to the front and slid it towards Logan. “Eighty-six out of one hundred,” he announced as Logan read over the score himself. “That’s… what, a B? Should be good enough even for you, right?”

“I don’t get any lower than an A,” Logan said primly in response. “But in this case, I believe a B is adequate.”

“Good,” Roman said with a nod. “I liked your piece, but it was a bit… dull, you know? It just… lacked the pizazz that something written for the prompt ‘love’ should have. The writing was lovely though, it was just the premise and a few of the word choices that brought your ‘grade’ down,” he explained, placing exaggerated finger quotes around the word grade.

“Understandable,” Logan agreed, scanning Roman’s comments. 

“Now!” Roman said, sitting up excitedly in his seat. “My turn. What’ve you got for me?”

“If I’m being honest,” Logan began carefully, “I didn’t expect all that much from you.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know—”

“Let me finish,” Logan said patiently, holding up a placating hand. “I _thought_ you were going to be too arrogant to take this seriously and would leave me to grade a rather lackluster piece, but I believe you’ll be happy to hear I’m not afraid to admit that my opinion of you was completely wrong.”

Sliding the paper towards Roman, he flipped it over, revealing a perfect score. With a small smile, he replied, “And you know, maybe you aren’t so bad after all.”

* * *

“Roman, you should try delivering that last line differently. It’s supposed to hold more significance than that, and you’re saying it like it means only what it appears to at first glance.”

Roman frowned down at the audience, trying to discern who had been talking. “Are you trying to tell _me_ how to act, Logan?” he asked finally, his eyes locking onto the only visible person sitting in the house.

“Of course not,” Logan replied, and if Roman hadn’t known better, he would have thought that a confused frown ghosted across his face as he did. “I was merely offering you a suggestion. You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”

“I didn’t _ask_ for a suggestion,” Roman said with a glare, sitting down on the edge of the stage and sliding off of it before stalking towards Logan, ignoring Janus’s muttered warning from behind him to stop arguing before this got wildly out of hand. “ _Nor_ did I want one. Not from you.”

Logan cleared his throat, addressing the remaining actors on stage. “Why don’t you all take a quick break?” 

They shuffled backstage obligingly, but neither Roman nor Logan missed the way they collectively made a mad dash for the doors near the stage, trying their best to find a way to watch and listen to what they could of the upcoming confrontation.

Sighing, Logan turned to Roman. “I was only trying to do what I thought was best. You aren’t the only one of us who cares about this show, you know. I _do_ help manage it, and everything I do _now_ is to make my job easier _later._ ”

Roman glared back, seeing nothing but red. “Well, pardon me for wanting something for that could be _mine_ and being just— just _ever so slightly upset_ when you try to upstage _everything I do._ It must have been so hard for you to admit that I was the only one of us that was good at _this one single thing,_ and I’m _terribly_ sorry for that, truly, I am. But— god, Logan, why do you always insist on taking _everything_ from me?”

Logan cocked his head curiously for a second, seeming to weigh his options. Then he laughed, his next words coming out in an unnecessarily cruel voice. “Not _everything_ is about you. You do realize that, right? Besides,” he smiled, eyes cold, “I don’t _actually_ care enough about you to give you the time of day, much less _deliberately_ ruin your life. I think you do a fine enough job of that on your own.”

At that, Roman recoiled, shock and pain warring over his features. A long, heavy silence filled the room as he fought to regain some semblance of control over himself. 

Finally, the shock and pain on Roman’s face gave way to cold, ruthless anger. “What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?” he hissed. His voice was barely above a whisper, yet somehow it still echoed clearly off of the walls of the theater.

“ _You’re_ the one who got _this_ upset with me over something so trivial. _You’re_ the one who accused me of taking everything from you. By that logic, I can assume that you feel like things you thought were yours are slipping out of reach and because, _Roman de Vera,_ the world does not _revolve_ around you, that is _your_ fault. Not mine, not the fault of not whatever poor soul you feel like blaming next, not _anyone else’s_ fault but _yours._ _You_ are the only one who is ruining your life, and you are doing it by _not being good enough._ ”

“I’m sorry, _what did you just say?_ ”

“If you’re asking for confirmation on whether or not I implied you were a failure, you would be right in believing that I did. If I’m being perfectly honest,” Logan said, giving Roman a smile that was all bared teeth, “I can’t believe I ever thought you were anything _other_ than that.”

At that, Roman couldn’t say anything at all, only able to stare openly at Logan, mouth agape. Shaking his head in disbelief, he clenched his jaw shut and turned on his heel, storming away in a haze of bright red _rage._

* * *

That had not just happened. 

That had _not_ just happened.

 _That_ _had not just happened._

There was no way Logan had just called him a failure. 

_Logan._

Logan couldn’t have called him a failure, not now, not just after they’d started to get along. Hell, Roman had almost started to believe that one day, they could have become _friends._

Roman shook his head. There was no way, that _had not just happened._

Maybe if he repeated it enough, he’d start to believe it.

Sighing, Roman pushed his way into the boy’s dressing room, only barely registering that he’d left the theater entirely. That was probably for the best, anyway. It wasn’t like he’d be able to do much more today, not after— 

_Failure._

Not with—

_Failure failure failure._

Roman squeezed his eyes shut, blocking the word from his mind. If there was one thing he _wasn’t_ going to do, it was let _Logan’s_ words get to him.

The voice in his head was still there, a whisper in the back of his mind as he dug through the backpacks at the edge of the room in search of his own, but at least now he could wave it away with relative ease. He hadn’t spent _years_ reminding himself that not being perfect in every way didn’t make him— didn’t make him a— didn’t make him _that_ just to have it all go to waste because of something _Logan Xie_ had said.

It probably wasn’t anything note anyway. Logan had been angry, and he’d lashed out. He couldn’t possibly have _meant_ what he’d said.

There was still an inkling of doubt tugging at Roman’s chest, but he ignored it. If it was still bothering him by the time he got home, he’d talk to Nox. That’d make him feel better—it always did.

* * *

When the vibrations of his phone disrupted the calm silence of his room, Logan couldn’t help but jump. He’d been so engrossed in his work that the sound startled him more than it probably should have. 

Logan mentally shook himself, pushing away the fog that still hung over his mind. He picked up the phone, seeing Ro calling. 

_Calling._

Something _must_ have been wrong. Ro didn’t _ever_ call him, claiming texting was a perfectly fine form of communication and much less stress-inducing to boot. Logan had agreed, and they’d mutually decided that they wouldn’t call each other—the only exception being when they were physically unable to text for one reason or another.

Logan assured himself that there could be several reasons Ro wasn’t able to text right then. Granted, he couldn’t exactly _think of them_ at the moment, but that didn’t mean something really, truly _awful_ had happened. 

Ignoring _that_ pesky thought, Logan picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Nox,” Ro said. He sounded like he’d been crying. “Thank _god._ ”

“Are you alright?”

“I, ah, I can’t really see my phone properly.”

“You— you _what?_ What happened?”

“Oh, ‘s just… I had to take out my contacts, and I can’t find my glasses. That’s all.”

Logan frowned, and his voice was riddled with skepticism when he replied, “Are you sure that’s all? I could have waited for you to find your glasses before you texted me, you know.”

“Yeah, but I missed you,” Ro replied, and Logan could vividly see the sort of pout he’d be wearing in his mind’s eye.

Sighing fondly, Logan allowed the topic of conversation to shift, figuring he wouldn’t be getting anything else out of Ro just yet. “You had rehearsal today, correct? How’d that go?” 

Maybe Logan _shouldn’t_ have brought up rehearsal, he realized with a wince as he remembered how his own rehearsal had gone. He was about to open his mouth and change the subject yet again, but Ro got to it first.

“Could we… not talk about rehearsal right now?”

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” came Ro’s simple response. “Sorry, I just don’t want to be a downer tonight. I promise I’ll talk to you about it later if I need to, though.”

“Cross your heart?”

“Cross my heart. Now,” Ro began, his tone immediately changing to something infinitely more upbeat, “what about yours?”

Logan blinked. “My what?”

“Your _rehearsal,_ of course. What else would I be talking about?”

“Oh. Right. That.”

Ro hummed sympathetically from the other end of the line. “Did yours go to shit too?”

“You could say that, yes.”

“Aw, damn. I’m sorry your first theatre experience isn’t as picture-perfect as mine was.”

Logan couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at that. “You’re the only one who expected it to be, you know. Besides, you were introduced to theatre in elementary school, and I’d hazard a guess that ten-year-olds are just a bit less cutthroat than high schoolers.”

Ro laughed, bright and full of such joy that it made Logan’s heart flutter. “You’ve definitely got me there. High schoolers are the _worst._ ”

“Except for you,” Logan amended, a smile on his face.

“And you,” Ro agreed. “If only we went to the same school,” he continued with a sigh. “It’d be much more bearable with you by my side.”

Logan cringed, once again reminded that if Ro knew him offline, he’d probably _hate_ him. He certainly wasn’t the most likable of people, and it still felt like a miracle that he had even one true friend in Ro. Still, he forced a light tone as he replied, “Seconded.” 

Ro went silent for a moment, and Logan heard a rush of air that must have been a yawn. “You should get to sleep,” he said, hoping the regret he felt at the suggestion didn’t bleed into his voice.

“I probably should,” Ro conceded.

“I’ll text you in the morning?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Goodnight, Ro.”

“Mm. Love you.”

“I love you too,” Logan replied, realizing only as he heard the click of the phone hanging up that this was the first time he’d ever said those words to Ro out loud. Somehow, that made them seem that much more real, and somehow, Logan found he really didn’t mind _that_ at all.

* * *

“I love you too,” Roman whispered to himself, repeating Nox’s words with a smile as he held his phone to his heart. “I love you too.”

Sighing contentedly, Roman allowed his eyes to slip shut, a feeling of blissful calm washing over him. It felt nice, lying in the darkness with a face finally scrubbed free of tears and a warm, full feeling in his chest to replace the emptiness that had plagued it before. Maybe in a few minutes, he’d even feel confident enough that he wouldn’t burst into tears at a moment’s notice to put his glasses back on. Talking to Nox had made him feel infinitely better, and Roman was glad it had. He didn’t know what he’d have done if his conversation with Nox hadn’t been as lovely as it’d turned out to be, not when Janus would only end up offering nothing but pity after this shitshow of a day. Roman found he didn’t particularly _want_ pity at the moment, not when he had enough for himself all on his own to last several lifetimes.

Nox, though… Nox hadn’t had any idea what had happened today. Nox hadn’t offered pity, he’d offered a warm, steady voice and an opportunity to let go of what Logan had said, to laugh, to smile, to— 

Roman frowned, considering where his thoughts had been headed. Something told him he wouldn’t particularly like the answer, not if he wanted to keep his relationship with Nox exactly the same. 

Sitting up, Roman slipped on his glasses and clutched a pillow to his chest and set his phone down on the bed in front of him, staring it down. He had to think about this _objectively._

He was friends with Nox. That was a given, of course, and if he had to choose one, he’d undoubtedly pick Nox as his _best_ friend, too. 

Friends enjoyed each other’s company, enjoyed talking to each other, might even look forward to texting them as the highlight of their day. Roman knew that all that to be true because he felt all of these things for the rest of his close friends as well. It wasn’t _only_ Nox that got the privilege of being the highlight of his day.

Friends talked to each other often, too. The fact that he made a point to text Nox every single day didn’t have to mean he felt anything other than close friendship.

His smiles at Nox’s endearing mannerisms were just smiles.

The fluttering of his heart whenever he noticed a new message from him only signified excitement at hearing from a friend.

The way his face flamed at Nox’s every compliment just proved how easily flustered he was.

 _None of this meant his feelings towards Nox were anything but platonic,_ Roman reasoned. _Everything could be explained away._

Everything, that is, but— 

Everything but the fire that consumed his chest whenever he thought of Nox, the yearning feeling that accompanied each of his smiles, the _ache_ that came with every declaration of love, every message, and every. Single. Word.

 _Those_ weren’t exactly the friendliest of feelings in Roman’s book.

Groaning, he fell to his back on the bed, wincing when his head hit the mattress and remembering too late that he was still holding his pillow against his chest. 

Now, besides the obvious, Roman _also_ knew deep down that any argument against his being in love with Nox was empty of conviction. Looking back on everything, he also realized that he’d known the truth for longer than he cared to admit.

There was really no denying it now, was there?

Roman de Vera was truly, deeply, _madly_ in love with Nox.

* * *

Logan had been just about to fall asleep when he was hit by a realization like a bolt of lightning.

He gasped, sitting up so suddenly it had him seeing starbursts of color and scrambling through the darkness to put on his glasses and flick on a lamp. Squinting, Logan dug through the drawer in his nightstand for a pen and something to write on as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the light. Upon finding them, he propped up his pillow and leaned back against it, blinking rapidly until he was able to see normally again. Flipping the journal open and positioning his pen over the first empty page he came across, Logan began to write.

They had the same voice, first of all. He was almost glad it had taken them this long to actually call each other because Logan _knew_ he’d have been able to figure this out is ten seconds flat on any other day.

They lived in the same state, for another. Logan had told Ro that they didn’t even share the same _country_ —let alone the same _state_ —for a reason, after all. He’d been worried about this exact event coming to pass. 

They were both theater nerds.

They both wrote _gorgeously._

They texted the same—both used the same style, intonation, and even seemed to prefer the ‘<3’ heart over any of the colored heart emojis.

They both made Logan’s heart flutter in a strange pattern whenever they spoke, though he supposed that wasn’t _proof_ so much as it was an odd little observation.

Even their _names_ were nearly identical, for god’s sake. Honestly, it was more shocking that Logan _hadn’t_ made the connection between them before now.

Finally satisfied with his list, Logan wrote one final thing, underlining it three times before he clicked his pen and put it back in the drawer he’d pulled it out of. 

His journal, though, lay open on his desk for him to see as soon as he put on his glasses the next morning, the words _‘RO IS ROMAN DE VERA’_ staring up at him in big, dark letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr post](https://ratherstarryeyed.tumblr.com/post/628022769504927744/cant-help-falling-in-love-with-you)


	3. Some Things Are Meant To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which relationships flourish once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyy final chapter we made it y'all 😌
> 
> warnings for this chapter: slight self deprecations (emphasis on _slight_ ), and i do believe that's it!

“Roman.”

Roman turned towards the sound of his name, frowning deeply when he saw who’d said it. “Logan,” he replied icily.

“I need to talk to you.”

“And I’m not so sure I want you to,” Roman replied, crossing his arms. “But can you really blame me?”

“I— no, I suppose not, but you can’t pretend I was the _only_ one at fault for what happened yesterday,” Logan said defensively, crossing his arms right back.

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Did what _I_ said _really_ compare to what _you_ said, though?”

Logan didn’t answer, only able to shift from foot to foot uncomfortably.

“I didn’t think so. I’d like to go home now, if you don’t mind. We have a show tomorrow, after all, and I need a good night’s sleep before that.”

“I’ll let you leave in a moment but can I at least—”

“If you’re going to apologize, you can save yourself the trouble. I don’t want to hear it.”

“That’s… not what I was going to say, though for the record, I—”

“Save. It.”

Logan took a deep breath. “Right. Right.”

Taking pity on him, Roman adjusted his stance so it looked ever so slightly less aggressive. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked, voice far more gentle than it had been previously.

Logan took another breath, and Roman started to grow curious. Logan looked _nervous,_ and the Logan he knew was _never_ nervous. 

“I… I know who you are.”

Roman frowned. “I certainly _hope_ you do.”

“No, no, I meant I… know you from, uh, somewhere else. I—” Logan paused. “I don’t know how to break this to you more gently, but… I’m Nox.”

Roman froze, face full of shock and disbelief. “No, you’re not.” He shook his head incredulously, repeating himself as though that might make the words more true. “You’re not Nox.”

“I can prove it to you if you’d like.”

“No, no, no. I don’t want to hear another word from you. _You’re not Nox,_ because Nox is… well, he lives in Canada, for one,” Roman said with a laugh, trying to both collect his thoughts and not let on how much Logan’s claim—that, for the record, wasn’t true, that _couldn’t_ be true—had shaken him.

“I lied about that,” Logan said, his voice small. “I… panicked when you asked me about where I lived. I hadn’t realized quite how much I didn’t want you to meet me in person because I knew that if you did you would _hate_ me. And, well…” he gave Roman a shaky smile. “I wasn’t exactly wrong to believe that, was I?”

Roman shook his head again, still refusing to believe what Logan was saying. “Show me your phone, then.”

Logan nodded in response, quickly typing in his password and turning the phone towards Roman. “Here,” he said, pulling up the app that Roman had used to message Nox for _almost two years,_ “these are our messages.”

“Hang on,” Roman said quietly, unlocking his own phone and open his thread of messages with Nox. “Let me just…” He typed a quick message, hitting send and watching Logan’s phone for any change.

The screen lit up with a notification.

Roman sucked in a breath. “Is that…”

“If you sent me a message that says ‘fuck you, Logan’ with no capitalization or punctuation and the word ‘you’ spelled only with the letter ‘u,’ then yes, that is your message.”

“Shit,” Roman gasped, stumbling backward until he hit a wall and was able to rest his weight against it. “Shit,” he repeated, the word barely audible this time as he sunk to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest.

 _Shit,_ he thought, mind reeling.

Vaguely, Roman registered Logan sitting down next to him. He stayed quiet, seemingly waiting for Roman to speak up first.

Finally, Roman managed to pull himself together enough to lift his head from where he’d buried it between his knees and say in a small voice, “I don’t. Hateyou, that is. I never did.”

Logan frowned, looking sideways at him. “What?”

“You said that if I knew you in person I’d _hate_ you, but I don’t. So you’re wrong.”

“Oh,” Logan said, his voice now equally small. “You could’ve fooled me.”

“I— well, maybe I did hate you at one point, but that was a long time ago.”

Logan looked at him strangely. “Really?”

Roman nodded in response. “Mhm. I thought—emphasis on _thought,_ by the way, past tense—you were… annoying. And too uptight, and that you weren’t any fun. I was a little bit right, at least, but when I met Nox, I guess I sort of… subconsciously realized that the same things I found insufferable about you I found endearing about him. Which— yeah, that’s a bit weird, now that I think about it,” he said with a self-deprecating sort of laugh as turned away and let his forehead rest against his knees again.

“I didn’t like you at first either,” Roman heard Logan reply quietly. “I believe I was a bit jealous—not overly so, mind you, but just enough that it ruined my perception of you.”

At that, Roman’s head shot up and he looked at Logan incredulously. “ _You_ were jealous of _me?_ But you’re so—” he gestured vaguely at Logan, “ _you._ Why the _hell_ would you be jealous of me when you’ve got everything?”

“I am _far_ from having everything, Roman.”

“But you— you’re so smart and confident, like, _intimidatingly_ so, and the way you carry yourself makes you seem _worlds_ above everyone else and really, if either of us should have been jealous, it should have been _me._ ”

“ _Were_ you jealous?” Logan asked curiously, his previous objections temporarily forgotten.

“I mean— maybe? I don’t know. Probably, though. It would have been nice to be more academically inclined, I guess, and I think my parents would have appreciated that more too. I mean, it might’ve even stopped them from claiming over and over and _over_ that I was ‘wasting my life away,’” Roman said, and though he laughed, there was no amusement behind it.

“Why would they think that? It’s not as though you have poor grades, and your acting is some of the best I’ve ever seen. Everyone in this entire school _loves_ you, and—”

“—and that’s not enough,” Roman finished. “I’m supposed to be _perfect,_ and ‘wasting my time’ with theater and choir and speech and track and field— _none_ of which will get me a high-paying career, by the way, which as we all know is _the_ most important thing to focus on in high school—was decidedly _not_ perfect.” 

“If it helps, I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Roman blinked. “Oh. Um, thanks.” Maybe if he didn’t _acknowledge_ the way his face was currently flaming up, Logan wouldn’t notice it.

“Besides,” Logan continued, thankfully not mentioning Roman’s blush, “your parents are wrong, and I think you know that too. You’re far from stupid, and I think the fact that you can balance all of your passions while still keeping up well above average grades is far more impressive than anything I could do.”

“But you—”

“You don’t have to try and defend me,” Logan said with a genuine laugh. “I don’t _mind_ that I won’t be able to do everything you can anymore. I’m just giving you a compliment, that’s all.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“So what you said yesterday…”

“ _Of course_ I didn’t mean it. I… made an educated guess about what insult would hurt you the most. I was angry, and I— I know that’s no excuse, but I really am sorry, Roman. I promise I believe the exact opposite of everything I said.”

“Oh,” Roman breathed. “I’m sorry too,” he managed a beat later.

“It’s perfectly alright, Roman, you don’t have to be. What I said was horribly out of line, and you were right, what you said wasn’t _nearly_ as bad so—”

“No, I meant for… everything. I never _really_ wanted you to think that I hated you.”

“Oh,” Logan breathed, his voice mirroring Roman’s from a few moments ago. “I— thank you.”

“And you should definitely know that beneath my animosity, I really, really admired you, Logan.”

“Just past tense?” Logan asked with a smile, his tone light and joking.

“Of course not,” Roman replied, taking his words seriously anyway. “I don’t think I could ever _not_ admire you if I’m being honest.”

At this, Logan stared openly at him. “Oh,” he said again.

The two went silent for another few moments. “You know what?” Roman finally said, turning to look at Logan. “If Nox could have been anyone at this school, I’m glad it’s you.”

“What, you wouldn’t have preferred Janus?”

Roman made a face at that. “They’d have been insufferable if they’d figured out who I was first. Besides, I—” he frowned, cutting himself off. What had he been going to say? ‘I don’t feel the same way about them as I do about Nox? About _you?_ ’

No, it was definitely for the better that Roman hadn’t continued that train of thought. “I wouldn’t have realized that you aren’t nearly as much of an insufferable nerd as I’d thought if it had been them either,” he settled on, shooting Logan a quick smile.

“And I suppose that if Nox had been Janus, _I_ wouldn’t have been able to befriend someone as wonderful as you are,” Logan agreed, smiling back.

“So it all worked out for the best then, didn’t it?”

“It did indeed.” The impossibly soft look Logan gave Roman at that made his heart burst into a flurry of butterflies.

Ah. Right.

Somehow, Roman had almost managed to forget about his newly discovered, incredibly intense crush on Nox—on _Logan._

Well.

 _Shit._

* * *

Roman stared longingly up at the booth from backstage and let out a soft sigh, allowing himself to quietly pine for the few brief moments he had before his cue to enter. He’d have been content to stand there and _yearn_ for those remaining moments, but he was shaken rather rudely from his reverie by Janus elbowing him in the ribs, looking at him with exasperation.

“Pay attention,” they mouthed, not making a sound.

“I am,” Roman mouthed back with a pantomimed huff added just for effect.

Rolling their eyes, Janus mouthed something else at him, but Roman quickly looked away as they did, having a sneaking suspicion he knew what they were going to say.

Thankfully, he was saved from any further antics on Janus’s part by the fact that the music for the finale had just begun to play. The rest of the actors were slowly gathering in the wings, separating Roman from Janus. Normally, he’d have been annoyed by this, but today Roman was just glad he wasn’t going to be subjected to any more teasing quite yet.

As the song continued, the anticipation in the air backstage grew, and by the time Roman’s cue to enter came, he was alight with excitement and energy. The feeling of singing the finale on opening night was truly like no other, and Roman was overjoyed to be able to participate in it one last time.

With one final exclamation of “Home!” from the ensemble followed by Usnavi’s final “I’m home!” the actors froze in place, panting and smiling as the words echoed through the now silent theater. That silence quickly gave way to thunderous applause, and just like that, the first show was over.

The lights went out and Roman dashed backstage, exhilarated by the continued cheers as the ensemble took their group bow. He stood beside Janus in the relative darkness with a grin on his face, waiting for their paired bow. 

After nearly all of the actors with individual bows had taken them, it was their turn. Janus took Roman’s hand with a sparkle of pure joy in their eyes and they strolled across the stage together, stopping in the center before raising their clasped hands in the air and bowing deeply. Roman’s smile shone brighter as he noticed several members of the audience who had previously been seated now standing up to cheer for _him_ —well, him _and_ Janus technically, but there was no doubt that he was indeed receiving a standing ovation.

Letting go of Janus’s hand, he turned to take his place in the growing line of actors, still grinning from ear to ear as Usnavi and Vanessa came on stage for their final bows and took their places in the middle of the line. He grasped the hands of both people next to them and raised them in the air—one, two, three—lowered them as the cast took a collective bow—one, two, three—and straightened again to gesture to the side of the stage as the crew walked out from the wings for their bow. 

It was much less coordinated than the actors’ had been, but Roman hardly noticed, far more interested in picking out Logan from the line in front of him. He had always been closer to the right when they’d rehearsed this, and— there he was. Right between their other stage manager and someone from the costume and makeup crew, glancing back at him out of the corner of his eye. He smiled slightly as he raised a hand to gesture to the light and soundboard ops still in the booth, and Roman, naturally, smiled right back before both his hands were grasped again for one final bow.

A few moments later, the cheers began to die down, and the lights on the stage dimmed as the house lights came back on. Chattering quietly, the cast and crew made their way backstage again, excited to see who had decided to come watch the show tonight. Roman had warned all his friends and family members against going to the opening night—some of the actors were still ironing out the creases in their performances at this point, after all—so he didn’t plan to stay long after the show tonight. Tomorrow’s show and the two shows on the final day would be different, of course, but tonight he just wanted to go home and get a good night’s sleep.

As he went to open the door to the dressing room, Roman felt a hand land gently on his shoulder. He turned, not sure who to expect, but his mouth broke into the brightest of smiles when he saw Logan standing there. “Hey!”

Too quickly, Logan removed his hand from Roman’s shoulder. “Salutations,” he replied, and Roman pretended not to notice the way his face colored ever so slightly. Clearing his throat, Logan fixed Roman with a look that was so full of pride that Roman felt his heart soar and a warm, giddy feeling spread through his chest. “I wanted to congratulate you on your performance tonight. It was… magical.”

“You think so?” Roman asked, trying to tamp down the smitten earnestness in his voice down to a reasonable level.

“I do. Being able to watch you from the booth instead of backstage is by far the greatest blessing of being the one to call the show, though I do admit I envy Janus just a bit. They have _by far_ the best view in the entire theater.”

Roman stared at Logan, only able to stop his jaw from dropping straight to the floor by covering up his shock with a light laugh. “Why do you think so?”

At that, Logan very nearly smirked. “They’re the one that gets to be in the closest proximity to you as you act, no? In my book, the clearer one is able to see your pretty face while you perform is the luckiest.”

This time, Roman couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping, though he quickly turned it into a smile. “I’m flattered,” he finally managed.

Logan nodded, looking supremely self-satisfied. “As you should be.”

Roman almost didn’t manage to stop himself from staring openly at Logan’s endearingly confident expression, and if this conversation went on for much longer, Roman felt sure he’d completely burst into flames. In an effort to avoid that, he faked a yawn, covering his mouth with his hand and blinking sleepily. “Sorry,” he said, giving Logan a sheepish smile. “I’m a bit tired, so I should probably get home to rest soon.”

“You deserve it after a performance like that,” Logan agreed. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow,” Roman confirmed with a nod, about to turn away. But then Logan _smiled,_ really, truly, genuinely _smiled_ and the warm, giddy feeling in Roman’s chest bubbled up again, thousands of times stronger than it had been before. If he kept holding something like _that_ in, he’d _definitely_ burst into flames. 

So he wouldn’t hold it in, not for much longer at least. The only thing left to do was wait for the perfect moment to confess.

Gazing into Logan’s beautiful, breathtakingly dark eyes, Roman smiled back before turning to the dressing room door, an idea forming in his mind and his soft smile lighting up into one of fierce excitement. 

Oh, this was going to be _wonderful._

* * *

_This was going to be_ wonderful, Roman assured himself for the seventeenth time that night, taking a deep breath to steel himself for what he was about to do. He may have been reasonably confident that Logan felt _something_ aside from friendship for him too, but there was no way for him to be certain yet. The possibility that he _didn’t_ though, no matter how slim it may have been, caused Roman’s heart to seize up in something akin to panic.

He shook it off. Now was _not_ the time to second guess himself. Now was the time to find Logan Xie.

Roman combed through the hallways behind the theater, his heart beating faster as the minutes ticked past and he _still_ couldn’t seem to find Logan.

“Places in ten!” someone called.

“Thank you, ten,” Roman echoed absently in time with the rest of the cast. 

Maybe Janus knew where Logan was. They had a rather uncanny ability of knowing where just about anyone was at every second of every day. Roman had no idea how they did it, but he wasn’t going to complain—especially not now.

 _They’re probably in the boy’s dressing room,_ Roman reasoned, remembering that he’d been able to find them there consistently before every other show that they’d done together. He walked quickly down the hall towards the door to it, slipping inside quietly when he reached it. After a quick scan of the room, Roman breathed a relieved sigh when he spotted Janus reclined comfortably on the one couch in the room, just as they’d been so many times before. He made his way over to them, nudging their feet away so he had a spot to sit too.

Janus frowned, stretching their legs out again and placing their feet in Roman’s lap. “What was that for?”

“Is it a crime to want to sit down?”

Clearly suspicious, Janus squinted at him. “What do you want?”

“Why do you assume I— nevermind. Uh, do you know where Logan is?”

“Cutting it awfully close here, aren’t we?” Janus replied, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to have time to properly serenade Logan in only ten minutes?”

“I’ll be fine,” Roman assured them. “I… might have timed the confession, just in case.”

Janus snorted. “Dork.”

Roman smacked their leg in reply. “ _Do_ you know where he is?”

“Oh, of _course_ I do. He’s somewhere in this school,” they said with a smile that Roman could almost believe was sincere.

“I’ll take that as a no, then?”

Sighing, Janus shook their head. “Sorry, Ro. I haven’t seen him since we got here.”

“Damn,” Roman muttered. “Well, I’d better keep searching.”

Janus swept their legs to the floor, allowing Roman to stand up before he even asked, saying, “I wish you the best of luck.” They added a little wave of their fingers and a smile at the end for good measure, sending Roman on his way.

“Places in five!”

“Thank you, five,” Roman echoed again, his heartbeat becoming almost painfully fast. He _had_ to find Logan.

Rushing out of the dressing room, Roman almost collided with someone dressed head to toe in black all but running past it. “Whoa,” he yelped, stumbling backward.

“My apologies, I—”

“Logan?”

“Roman?”

“Oh, thank _god,_ I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Whatever for?” Logan asked with a frown. “Is something wrong?”

“No!” Roman exclaimed, perhaps a bit too forcefully, as Logan winced. “No,” he repeated, a bit calmer than before, “nothing’s wrong.”

“Oh, good. Why did you need to see me, then?”

“I… wanted to talk to you. Can we talk? Like, around the corner or something.”

Logan gave him a searching look, but he nodded nonetheless. “Sure.”

Taking Logan’s hand in his, Roman pulled him around the corner to a quiet, empty hallway. Dropping his hand, Roman turned back to Logan and gave him what he could only hope appeared to be a confident smile. “Logan,” Roman said, taking a deep, slow breath, “Logan,” he repeated.

“Ro?” Logan asked, frowning. “Places are in five— no, _four_ minutes now, what’s so important that it can’t wait until after the show?”

Roman laughed breathlessly, taking one of Logan’s hands in again. “I’ve waited for long enough already. And I just—” Roman paused, nearly forgetting that he’d had a _plan_ for this and letting go of Logan’s hand. “Um, let me try again?”

“Of course.”

“Okay. Okay, good.” Roman took another breath, clasping his shaking hands together as though not showing his nerves would make them go away. 

“Logan,” he started again. “You… you’re brilliant, and I mean that in every sense of the word. You’re smart and clever, and honestly, I could listen to you talk about literally anything for _hours._ You have a nice voice too, did you know that? And you’re pretty, _very_ pretty—gorgeous, really, one might say—and… any moment I’m talking to you is one of the best moments of my day.”

“Ro—”

“Shush, I’m getting there, don’t worry.” Roman placed a gentle hand on Logan’s cheek, gazing at him with an incredible fondness as he took another breath, this time to slow his rambling to something more eloquent. “There are so, so, _so_ many things I could say about you, and not one of them would be able to properly encompass my feelings for you. No matter how good with words Mrs. Weisz—or you, even—think I am, I still couldn’t _possibly_ explain how much you mean to me. No metaphor or simile in the world could ever come close to properly describing the warm, burning, _wonderful_ sensation in my chest that I feel whenever I so much as think about you, and I— Logan, the fact that you’re right here, standing in front of me—and the fact that I even _met you_ —must be some sort of miracle. This— _you—_ it doesn’t feel real, and I— Logan, darling, there’s no other place in the world I’d rather be right now.”

With that, Roman took Logan’s face ever so carefully between both of his hands and whispered, “I’ve said it before, but when I say it this time, I hope you understand that I mean it in an ever so slightly different way because the closest I’ll _ever_ get to explaining exactly what I feel for you is this: I love you, Logan Xie.” Logan opened his mouth to say something in response to that, but Roman interrupted him. “And Logan, can I kiss you?”

In response to that, Logan could do nothing more than nod.

So Roman kissed him, smiling so wide it felt as though he might burst with the joy of it, smiling somehow even wider as he felt Logan’s arms twine around his neck, smiling and smiling and smiling even as they broke apart.

“I love you,” Roman repeated, utterly breathless.

“I love you too, Roman de Vera,” Logan replied, and the look he gave Roman was the most beautiful thing in the universe. “But you really do have to go on stage now.”

“One more kiss, at least?”

Logan, of course, obliged.

Roman pulled away a moment later, grinning at Logan before murmuring one more, “I love you,” and dashing towards the entrance to the stage in a whirl of color.

* * *

It may have been for any number of reasons, but East Shore High School’s final performance of _In the Heights_ went _perfectly._

It may have been for any number of reasons, but Roman de Vera, one of the stars of East Shore High School’s _In the Heights_ had the best performance of his high school career.

It may have been for any number of reasons, but Logan Xie, one of the stage managers of East Shore High School’s _In the Heights_ could not stop smiling throughout the entire show.

It may have been for any number of reasons, but Roman de Vera and Logan Xie ran first to each other after their final bows. 

And while it _may_ have been for any number of reasons, there was one reason in particular that they looked into the other’s eyes that night like there wasn’t a single other thing in the world that mattered more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway i noticed that this work had seven subscriptions when i checked earlier today so i hope you know i'm expecting seven new comments 😌 (i'm Joking but also 👀 some more comments would be hella Swag of you to make just saying 👀👀)
> 
> [tumblr post](https://ratherstarryeyed.tumblr.com/post/628215366500368384/cant-help-falling-in-love-with-you)

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments (especially comments!! u own a tiny bit of my soul if u comment) are always appreciated ty <3
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ratherstareyed) || [tumblr](ratherstarryeyed.tumblr.com)


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